I Run to You
by badfanfictionaire
Summary: Whenever things go wrong, there's only one person on her mind. And that's why Lydia needs to tell Stiles how she really feels about him. (The lyrics at the beginning are by Lady Antebellum.) PS: I am so sorry for the shitty ending, I'm never good at them :(


_"I run from hate_

_I run from prejudice_

_I run from pessimists_

_But I run too late_

_I run my life_

_Or is it running me_

_Run from my past_

_I run too fast_

_Or too slow it seems_

_When lies become the truth_

_That's when I run to you_

_This world keeps spinning faster_

_Into a new disaster so I run to you_

_I run to you baby_

_And when it all starts coming undone_

_Baby you're the only one I run to_

_I run to you_

_We run on fumes_

_Your life and mine_

_Like the sands of time_

_Slippin' right on through_

_And our love's the only truth_

_That's why I run to you…"_

* * *

After everything that had happened she didn't know who to trust or how to feel. It had been almost a year since Allison had died, and Lydia still couldn't shake the sadness. She felt mopey and unmotivated, and no one was making her feel any better. She hasn't spent time with Aiden in months, or Scott, or Derek, or even Stiles... And it didn't help, strangely, that Stiles seemed to be uninterested in her all of a sudden. It shouldn't have mattered because Lydia didn't like Stiles 'like that', but it nagged her to see him look the other way when she walked by. She was so used to those intent amber eyes staring with such devotion. It should have been a relief not to feel his gaze boring into her at all times, but it wasn't...

She wondered if he blamed himself for what had happened, hoping he didn't. She certainly didn't blame him, how could she? Stiles wouldn't have ever intentionally hurt someone, that just wasn't in his realm of capabilities.

She stared at herself in the mirror, trying to decide if she should straighten her hair or just leave it as it was. Letting out a sigh she decided to just tie it back and not deal with it. Jackson had always hated her hair in a ponytail it made her ears look 'dopey'.

_Stiles wouldn't care if she wore her hair back..._

She swiped on some lipstick and mascara, shoved her feet into some heels, and grabbed her bag, wondering why all of a sudden she was even considering what Stiles' opinion would be. As she got into her car she willed herself to think happy thoughts so today wouldn't start on a drab note. Lydia did her best to pull up at least one good memory every morning. It was usually something Allison related because missed her best friend, but today it was different…

_"...Well, I think you look beautiful..."_

She felt her cheeks turn pink as his kind words floated through her mind. That was one of the last times she'd felt truly happy she realized. After that things had gotten messy.

_But not with him, things were always okay with him, even when they weren't..._

By now her face was starting to get warm. She rolled down the window and started the car, trying to stop herself from thinking about Stiles. She _never_ thought about him, so why was he suddenly the only thing on her mind? As she drove to school she kept her mind clear of any irrelevant thoughts, instead focusing on the poem she needed to recite in class.

As she pulled into the lot she instantly groaned, the only open spot was next to Stiles' jeep. Just like most things with Stiles, the jeep was never going to change. Despite the constant beatings it took it still ran like a champ. She knew Stiles would always repair it rather than abandon it for something new, that was just the way he was.

_Stable. Loyal. Careful…_

She pulled into the spot and stared at the jeep, wishing Stiles was in it so she could say good morning. He was probably already inside with Scott, going about his day…

_With out me…_

Lydia caught herself starting to feel a little emotional. All this time she'd been telling herself it was normal for Stiles to have moved on, that she was okay with it, but deep down she was not okay with it. Stiles was supposed to be there for her, even when she didn't want him to be. With that stupid puppy dog expression and understanding eyes. As much as his constant rambling and sarcastic remarks drove her nuts, life was too quiet without them.

Not to mention, when things got rocky she was used to being able to run to him for help. He was just as smart as she was, so he always knew what to do. And then there were the times she just needed him for protection, and the time she was trying to protect _him_ (from the explosion), and the panic attack (which they weren't supposed to talk about, ever).

_Face it, he's supposed to be __your__ Stiles…_

Her hands were starting to tremble and she felt her eyes dampen. She tried to take a deep breath but it came out ragged. Then came the tap on her window, which made her jump about a mile high.

She looked over to see two big brown eyes peering at her apologetically. Before rolling her window down she silently cursed Malia for talking Stiles into keeping his hair grown out, because on the one hand it made him look (devilishly) handsome (aka _so_ not what she needed right now), and on the other hand it reminded her of how different things _actually_ were (even though she didn't want to admit it).

"Sorry if I scared you. Came out to get a textbook I left in my car and you looked upset... Is everything okay?"

"I'm fine, it's just been a rough morning."

"Do you want to talk? I have free period first, so I've got time."

"No... It's nothing you want to hear, Stiles."

"What?! Why? I want to hear anything you have to say, you know that."

She forced a smile, "It's nothing, really. I'll be okay."

"...I'm sorry, I should have left you alone... God I'm so stupid, I knew there was a reason you were staying away, you must hate me still... I'm sorry, sorry..." The words spilled out of his mouth so fast she didn't have time to cut him off and say he was wrong.

As he went to walk away she nearly dove out of the car after him. "Stiles! Wait!"

He stopped briefly and looked back at her, "I'm just going to go, I'm sorry, don't worry about it…"

"No, no… Please, don't walk away. I… I'm not mad at you, I promise. I'm just… I've been staying away because I thought _you_ wanted _me_ to. I was letting you have space, I thought that was what _you_ wanted..."

"Why? Why would I want that?" he almost looked hurt at that proposition.

"I'm not really in the best shape these days, emotionally, and you… You've moved on, you don't need me weighing you down, Stiles."

He raised an eyebrow and stared at me quizzically, "You think _I've_ moved on? How could _I_ move on? I mean sure, I'm not wallowing in self pity, but I haven't forgotten what happened, Lydia. I don't think I ever will. And I would never move on from you unless it was what you wanted, you should know that. You're always going to be my number one…"

"I don't know why," I said under my breath, thinking he wouldn't hear my confession, but of course he did.

"The second day of third grade."

"What?"

"On the second day of third grade, I fell off the monkey bars because that jerk, Brad Wilson or something like that, the kid who moved to Germany in fifth grade, he kicked me, remember? And everyone else just laughed, because why wouldn't they? Goofy Stiles, at it again, just playing around… But not you, you realized right away that I was hurt, and you didn't laugh. Not once… You didn't even cry when I accidentally got blood on your dress, you just held my hand all the way to the nurses' office."

"How do you even remember that?"

"How could I not? You were one of the first people to be genuinely nice to me. I'm never going to forget how that felt, never…"

He was so close to me now I could just slightly feel his shirt brushing against my arm. My breathing was getting a little labored, and my brain was screaming at me to just make a move already, but I had to control myself.

"If there was a way I could get you to see me the way I see you, I'd do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked, but I know you're never going to. It just isn't how it's supposed to go."

"Stiles…"

"I'm going to go to class, okay?"

"Stiles, I just…"

"Just stop, okay? I may not ever move on from you, but you've got to quit dragging me along!"

"I'm not trying to drag you along! I want you back, don't you get it?!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I want _you_, Stiles. I need _you_. Whenever things go wrong, you are _always_ there for me. I can run to you, for anything… I miss that, I miss _you_."

His expression was still one of disbelief, so I did the first thing that came to mind. I kissed him.

He was hesitant at first, but then his lips were pressing back against mine. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me even closer. I pulled his face closer to mine with both hands, grasping at his thick hair for better grip. I decided immediately I forgave Malia for not letting him cut it, it was _definitely_ staying like this. His mouth peppered kisses all down my cheek and neck, moving skillfully along my collarbone.

"What about Malia?" I breathed, as his mouth worked its magic behind my ear. Gently, playfully biting my earlobe.

"What about her?" Stiles replied.

"She won't be mad?"

"Probably not, she dumped me."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

_No I'm not, I'm not at all…_

"Don't be." His body shifted forward and I found myself pressed up against the side of my car. He was warm against me, his presence was so comforting, it was just what I needed.

My hands instantaneously started to travel under his shirt, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that underneath those baggy tees, Stiles was all muscle.

"You can always, always run to me," his voice rumbled in my ear, "Anytime, for anything at all."

"I'm going to hold you to that," I sighed, carding my fingers through his hair as his graceful fingers started to trace along the band of my bra.

"Go right ahead," he said, "I wouldn't have it any other way."

I knew from that day forward that no matter how many things I was running from, there would only be one thing I was running to. And that was going to be Stiles Stilinski, because that was how it should be.


End file.
